Page 88 of Just Forever

“Suit yourself. Another one of these, sweetheart,” he tells the waitress. She sends him a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I can relate.

“Right away, sir.” She walks away.

Scott’s gaze takes me in, then. Cool and calculating this time. “I understand you and your mother had a little chat.”

“You’re a dick,” I say calmly. “You could’ve just left me alone instead of playing some fucking mind games.”

The waitress is back with Scott’s drink. He takes the glass and takes a slow sip, eyes still trained on me.

“Believe it or not, it was worth a shot.”

“You’re a dick,” I repeat.

“I’m a businessman.”

“Is that a synonym for dick?”

“There is some overlap between that and success.”

“Great,” I say sarcastically, pushing my chair back to get up. Turns out I’m not interested in continuing this conversation. Fuck him.

“How much will it cost me?” he asks.

I stop and frown at him. “How much will what cost?”

“Your silence.”

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “How very mob boss of you.”

“It’s just common sense. You’ll need to sign a retroactive non-disclosure agreement, and I imagine you have a price for that.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your money.”

“Of course you don’t. What will it be, then? Twenty thousand? Thirty? Forty?”

I scoff. “I don’t want your money. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist, and it’ll be compensation enough.”

I start to get up again.

“I’m still going to need you to sign the NDA.”

“Pass,” I say and start to walk away.

“Lake.”

I turn around at Scott’s voice. He’s standing up, holding an envelope between his forefinger and middle finger.

I slowly walk back to the table, eyes narrowing.

He holds it out toward me.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

I open the envelope and pull out a sheet of paper, eyes moving over it before my gaze flies up to Scott, and I hold up the copy of my marriage certificate.

“Where did you get this?”

“That’s not really important.” He waves me off dismissively.

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